Pfft. I am posting twice within a seven-day period and so deserve some kind of award.
That is how I am motivating myself lately: I get awards for things. All the things. Yesterday I managed to go grocery shopping after work instead of going home and immediately collapsing into bed, and I got my friend J to send me a gold star via text message.
Then I got home and actually cooked food, and then actually ate some of it, and rewarded myself with alcohol.
At some point this week I appear to have written about a third of a page of the fifteen-page paper that is due Monday, and rewarded myself with not looking at it again at any point since. But I have managed to lever myself out of bed and out of my house and to bring my textbooks with me, so I am rewarding myself with an iced mocha. It is November; it is also 75 degrees outside, and so here we are.
The paper is 1/45th complete. I should reward myself in some way. I think I am going to have to count writing this blog post as a reward, though, given that it is a bit procrastinatory. (In this context, “a bit” means “entirely.”)
I am going to go and do that, I guess. Because at some point I will have to if I am not going to drop out of grad school and go screaming across the country weeping gently into my Moleskine like some kind of awful Kerouac knock-off. (This is not, by the way, a particularly strong recommendation of Kerouac, because that whole generation was really cool and really awful in roughly equal measures.)
(Would being the uterus-enabled, queer as hell version of Kerouac be at all marketable? If anyone wants to give me a book deal right quick, please let me know. I would love to not have to pretend to write this paper anymore, and I am going to need some new sweaters if fall ever actually gets here properly.)